


what brothers do

by ZinniaRae



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Emetophobia, Gen, Sick Character, maybe a little angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZinniaRae/pseuds/ZinniaRae
Summary: Jason Todd has never been the best brother to, well, anybody. That doesn't mean he doesn't know how.





	what brothers do

Bruce was being honored for some charity thing or something. Honestly, Jason hadn’t been paying much attention when he was told about it. Wasn’t like he could show up anyway. Bruce Wayne’s supposedly dead adopted son popping up at the gala? That would be a headline for rag mags everywhere. Not that Jason _cared_ about showing up. The whole suit and tie, making nice with boring socialites schtick wasn’t his deal anyway.

The manor was empty, the gala was a family affair. Even Alfred was attending. Again, that was perfectly fine by Jason. It meant there wouldn’t be any forced conversation, any awkward moments. He was only there to grab the meals Alfred had placed in the fridge for him. Sure, he was grown and could cook for himself (pretty well, actually) but there was nothing like Alfred’s home cooked meals. Of course, an empty house meant going without tea and conversation with Al, something Jason looked forward to, but it also meant no Bruce or Tim or D -

That wasn’t right.

He heard a door opening upstairs, light footsteps on the wooden floor -- and then the undeniable sound of somebody gagging. “Nope,” Jason shook his head, stuffing the tupperware containers into his backpack. “Not getting involved. _Not_ getting involved.” He mumbled to himself, zipping the backpack up and tossing one strap over his shoulder. He turned to go back out the window he came in through -- until the sound of gagging turned into somebody puking their guts out.

“Goddammit,” Jason grumbled, dropping the backpack by the fridge. He was _so_ going to regret this, wasn’t he? He was slow as he climbed the stairs, turned down the hall to a room he was only vaguely familiar with. _Damian_. The demon brat was sick. Perfect. Everything in him wanted to turn and go back down those stairs, get back to his safe house and watch mindless trash on TV as he ate dinner.

Yet a little voice inside him urged him to open the door, to check on the kid.

So he did. He pushed open the door and quietly stepped inside, noting the scattered art supplies around Damian’s room and how the bed look disturbed, like he had threw the sheets off of it to run to the bathroom. Titus was sitting by the bathroom door, dutifully guarding his owner. Taking a deep breath, Jason poked his head in the doorway. “Hey pipsqueak, you sick?”

Damian was kneeling on the bathroom floor, hands clutching the sides of the toilet, eyes tired, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and dark skin abnormally pale. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, jade eyes glared up at Jason. “Please tell me you did not ask that, Todd.” He managed to retort.

“Right. Stupid question. Better question, why are you home alone? B should be here, he’s your father, after all. Or at least Al. Hell, surprised Grayson isn’t here. He normally worships the ground you walk on.” He paused, slowly nodding his head as realization dawned upon him. “Right. You didn’t tell them.”

“I can take care of my - “ Damian was cut off as another wave of nausea hit him. His head was back in the toilet and Jason was thankful that he had a strong stomach.

Damian hadn’t needed to finish his sentence. Jason figured it out. The kid was too damn proud to tell anybody that he was sick, wanted to deal with it himself. And Jason had ended up getting himself tangled up in it all. Reaching into the cabinet, he grabbed a washcloth and ran cold water over it from the sink. Once Damian’s head was out of the toilet, he handed the cloth over. “Wipe your mouth, kiddo.”

Grumbling under his breath, Damian listened, using the cool cloth to clean his mouth off. He got off his knees, settling back against the wall and taking a deep breath. Then the back of Jason’s hand was pressed to his forehead. “Todd, what in the hell are you doing?”

“You have a fever.” Jason said plainly. Something came over him, something he wasn’t _used_ to. The need to take care of the youngest bat. “Have you eaten anything today? Or have you been puking all day?” He asked, stepping away to lean back against the wall, eyes focused on Damian.

Sighing, Damian spoke, “...I have been sick since I woke up.” He seemed reluctant to admit it. Probably more of that stupid Wayne ego getting in the way.

“So we’re going to get you some vegetable broth. You’re vegetarian, right?”

“How did you know?”

Jason shrugged. “I just do.” Maybe his own pride was too stubborn to admit that he paid attention to these things. “Anyway, we’re going to see if you can keep some broth down and get some sleep. See if we can get you to sweat your fever out. Deal?”

Another reluctant sigh from Damian. “If it makes you feel useful, Todd.”

  
  
******* ****

Thirty minutes later, Damian was tucked in bed with a bowl of vegetable broth and Jason stood awkwardly in the doorway. Even if the kid was trying to keep his tough demeanor up, it was actually kind of sad. Jason had never seen him so...not Damian like. His sarcastic retorts were lacking, he would make pathetic whimpers occasionally or sniffle and nuzzle into his pillow. He seemed like an actual kid, instead of the pain in the ass he was.

That’s when it kind of hit Jason. Damian _was_ a kid. Mature in some ways beyond his years, but still just a kid. “I’m finished, To - _Jason_.” His voice pulled him from his thoughts and Jason left the doorway, taking the half-empty bowl from him.

“Should have eaten more.” He grumbled, placing it on the nightstand. “How are you feeling? Do we need to make a beeline to the bathroom?”

“I-I think I am fine. Thank you.”

There was an honesty in his thank-you that made Jason give a small smile and a nod. “Don’t mention it, tater tot.” He stood there awkwardly, looking between the door and Damian. He had never really spent an extended amount of time _alone_ with the kid. Always stayed away, always had other things to do. Always felt out of place.

There was a portrait in the hallway. One of Bruce, Damian, Dick, Tim and Alfred. One without Jason. And maybe that bugged him more than it should have. Maybe it made him feel completely isolated, even if it he had done most of the isolating himself. It still stung, but it wasn’t Damian’s fault. Even if there wasn’t a closeness between the two of them, Damian needed someone to take care of him right now. He needed a big brother.

Silence passed between the two of them as Jason moved across the room, moving to Damian’s bookcase. The shelves were lined with books, some Jason had read, some he hadn’t heard of. Some old, some new. His eyes stopped on his Shakespeare collection. It didn’t come as a surprise that the kid liked Shakespeare. Grabbing ‘ _A Midnight’s Summer Dream’_ off the bookshelf, he moved back over to Damian’s bedside. “Scoot over, baby bat.”

“Todd, what in the hell are you doing?” The attitude was back, but it was a front. A weak one put on by a kid who felt terrible, who wanted to feel strong. It wasn’t working.

“I’m going to read to you. If you’d scoot over.”

“Why?”

“Well, you don’t have a TV in your room,” Jason said looking around.

“I mean why are you going to read to me? I can read by myself.”

“Yeah, I know.” He rolled his eyes, adjusting the book in his hand. “It’s just --” He paused, almost struggling over his words. “When I was sick, during the times my mom was sober...however brief they were,” Jason sighed. “She’d read to me. Usually ‘cause we didn’t have cable but,” He shrugged. “Nevermind. It’s stupid.” Placing the book on the nightstand, he shook his head, reaching out to ruffle Damian’s dark hair. “Feel better, Damian.”

Feeling a little bit like an idiot, like he had pointlessly opened himself up to one of the people he fought to keep out, Jason turned to walk toward the door. He was almost out of the doorway before there was a sigh. “Jason, come back here.”

He turned to look at Damian, who had grabbed the book and scooted over in bed. A faint little smile graced Jason’s face as he walked back over, taking the book from Damian and kicking off his boots before taking the empty spot that was open for him.

Awkward was the best way to describe it at first as Jason started to read outloud but as Damian listened and began to drift off, that changed. He had scooted over next to Jason, leaning his head against his shoulder as he listened, eyes heavy. When there came a pause in Jason’s reading, he spoke. “Thank you, Jason.” He said quietly.

“Don’t mention it, Damian. It’s what brothers do.” Jason said, wrapping an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders. He stole a glance over at him during the pause, noting just how damned young he looked. It still amazed Jason, he still found it hard to comprehend, that Damian was still a _kid_. He leaned back, making himself more comfortable.

Jason finished the first scene of act two when he heard Damian’s quiet little snores. The preteen was still curled against him, his head on Jason’s shoulder. Slowly, he closed the book, risking moving to place it on the nightstand. That was when Jason realized he was _stuck_. If he moved, Damian would wake up and the kid needed rest.

Instead of risking it even more, he settled back in bed, made sure the blanket was pulled over the two of them. He let his head rest on the pillow, let his eyes close. Both of them would deny this ever happening. If they ever spoke of it, Damian would bring it up in heated arguments about how he didn’t ‘need’ Jason and only let him read to him because he gave some pitiful story.

He was okay with it staying a quiet secret between the two of them though. It gave Jason a momentary feeling of being part of the family, of not being alone, of being a good brother for once. He didn’t need praise or thanks or questions. He just needed this moment of being the big brother he had wished he could have been numerous times.


End file.
